


The Language of the Black Priesthood of Ancient Mu

by Birdgirl



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Not What It Looks Like, but not really, shelving units, so more like fluff, yes that's a tag now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdgirl/pseuds/Birdgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as- the Ikea instruction manual.</p><p>(Smut-but-not)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of the Black Priesthood of Ancient Mu

"Ah… ah! C-crowley… I can't…" Aziraphale pushed back harder, knuckles white.

 

"Just… just a little longer, Angel…" Crowley panted, pushing back. His sunglasses were askew, arms straining, but he pressed on.

 

"D-dear, I don't think I can hold it that much longer… I think I might…"

 

"N-no!" the demon hissed. "Just… it just needs to be a little deeper in… be… be patient…"

 

Sweat ran down both their foreheads as Crowley twisted it a bit before pushing back in, grunting with the effort. Granted, more good would come out of it than not, but did it have to be so bloody _tiring_? Maybe they were just both out of shape, or something.

 

"Can't you just… oh, can't you just hurry it up? I need this!" Aziraphale's breathing was a bit strained, muscles tense. But, this was his idea, so there wasn't really reason for him to complain, in the demon's opinion.

 

"Blesssss it, Aziraphale, will you just hold on a bloody minute…"

 

The angel cringed, still pushing back against Crowley's force. "Can't it… it can't go any faster than this?"

 

Crowley just closed his eyes and sighed, mustering the strength to stay civil.

 

"Well, maybe, if you had read the _blessed_ instructions…"

 

The angel paused, looking up at Crowley confusedly. "There are instructions for this sort of thing…? I thought it was quite, well… self-explanatory…"

 

"Of courssssse there are instructions! Probably for the use of dimwitted Angels who don't know a screw from a nail!"

 

"Now now, that's a bit harsh…"

 

Aziraphale lost control of his hands for just a second, and there was a loud crash. "Oh. Bugger."

 

Both of them looked to the floor. Aziraphale's lack of pressure had caused the shelving unit to fall uncerimoniously on the ground, making a thunk sound as it did and a rattling as half a dozen tiny screws hit the wooden bookshop floor.

 

"Well, now you've bloody done it, Angel." Crowley groaned, examining the crack in the wood-looking plastic shelf that had broken on its impact. The tag proudly proclaimed "EKBY HEMNES".

 

The angel sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow and looking down at the shelf with both disappointment and exhaustion, looking over to Crowley, whose face was similar. The demon's sleeves were rolled up as he glared at the offending piece of wall furniture.

 

Next time, Aziraphale reflected, they would _not_ be going to Ikea.


End file.
